Not the Write Stuff
by deangirl1
Summary: Sam and Dean are confronted by an evil that would strike fear into the heart of the bravest writer. A bit of harmless fun to cheer up a friend.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to real alive or dead people is purely coincidental. I don't own 'em – Kripke and the CW do…

A/N: So this is purely a bit of harmless fun to cheer up a friend and exorcise some of those nasty demons that plague us as writers. Please enjoy this in the spirit in which it is intended….

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Not the Write Stuff

"Ok. So what are we doing here again?"

Sam sighed and gave his brother a long suffering look.

"Dude. Do you ever pay attention to anything I say?"

"Don't get your knickers in a knot. I'm paying attention now, aren't I?" Dean had the decency to look at least a little ashamed of himself. But really, research was just so boring. He was sure if he gave 100 of his attention to the mind-numbing process his brain would simply trickle out of his ears. That's what Geekboy was for after all.

Sam sighed again and watched his brother paw at the tie around his neck.

"We are here to look at the remains of one Judy Sue."  
"You are totally shitting me. That is not a real name!" Dean looked at his brother incredulously.

"It is still her name, Dean. It has been her name the whole time we have been researching this case." Sam scowled at his brother's lack of focus. Really, he just wanted to smack him upside the head sometimes.

"Anyway. She was a writer, and so far she is the most consistent link between the victims. Each of the suicides had a copy of her most recent novel."

"So are we assuming she wrote them to death? You'd think the publishing company would have frowned on that." Dean quirked an eyebrow at his brother.

"Well, she didn't use a real publisher for one thing. She published a lot on the internet – or at least she posted on the internet – and then she published with a vanity press."  
"Come again? A what?"

"Vanity press, Dean. The author pays for the printing themselves. It's a way to get anything published and from what I've read of hers it was the only way she was ever going to get published."

"Bad?"

"Well, suggesting she wrote them to death is a real possibility."

Dean winced.

"The funny thing is that right before she died she suddenly got a contract with a really prestigious publishing firm." Sam rifled through the folder he had in front of him.

"Hers is the only death that wasn't a suicide."  
"Yeah, the whole chopped to bits corpse was kind of a _dead _giveaway…"  
Sam groaned.

"Again. Why are we here, Sammy?"  
"The usual reason, Dean_-y_. We need to view the remains. Ah!" Sam found the picture he'd been digging in the folder for. He passed it to his brother.

"UGH! If you've already got a picture of the corpse, why do we need to go in?" Dean made little gagging noises.

"Dude! She's not dead in that picture. Thought we should be able to verify we were looking at the right body." Sam cringed as he looked at the picture in his brother's hand, which Dean began to flap in his brother's general direction.

"Ewwww! Take her back, man. That is the fugliest old broad I think I've ever seen. No wonder she kept herself locked up in that house writing! Man! I think that I just threw up in my mouth a bit."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's over the top reaction. Still, he had to admit that the deceased was about the ugliest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. He felt a little bad that she had apparently had no talent either. Which in turn piqued his interest in how she had ever scored a publishing contract. Something was definitely up, and this woman was at the centre of it.

"I'm not generally against a well-preserved cougar, but even I have certain minimum standards!" Dean forcibly shoved the offending picture into the file in Sam's lap.

"Fine, Dean. Point taken. But I really think you are safe – she is _dead_ remember?"

"Hey! You know as well as I do that it wouldn't be the first time a ghost preferred me to you."  
"So you've decided we are dealing with a vengeful spirit?"  
"Well, haven't you? I mean, what else could it be?"

"You really don't get the whole point of research, do you Dean? It's pointless to do research if you don't keep an open mind." Sam shook his head and laying the folder on the seat pushed open the car door and started to head towards the building they were sitting in front of.

"Ok, ok, Samantha, no need to get your knickers in a knot. I'm coming!" Dean had to jog to catch up with his brother to follow him into the morgue.

The woman behind the reception desk appraised the two young men in front of her appreciatively.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" she inquired under lowered lashes.

Dean leaned in for the kill.

"We're with the FBI, miss. We need to see the remains of Judy Sue." Dean smiled his most winning smile and Sam sighed as he watched yet another woman melt under the Dean Winchester sun.

"I'll need to see some id," she breathed apologetically as she beamed up at Dean.

"Of course," Dean said as he flashed his very fake id in her general direction.

"Thanks. I'll buzz you in. Jim can get the remains out for you and put them in one of the private viewing rooms, so you won't be disturbed."  
"Thanks yourself. You've been very helpful." Dean winked at the woman as he and Sam walked past into the morgue proper.

Jim met them as they crossed the threshold.

"I'll put you in here," he said indicating a room to the side of the main examination room. "I'll bring the remains in a moment." Jim didn't follow them in but instead turned and headed toward the storage drawers.  
"These places always creep me out," Sam barely controlled an involuntary shudder.

"I'd think you'd be use to it by now, Sammy," Dean smirked.

Jim entered the room carrying a medium sized cardboard box.

Dean's eyebrows just about disappeared into his hairline. His unasked question was obvious.

"This is how the "body" came to us. The medical examiner hasn't had time to examine it thoroughly yet, so please don't remove it." Jim placed the box in the centre of the table and then exited the room.

Dean looked at Sam.

Sam looked at Dean.

Dean couldn't stand it.

"What's in the bo-ox?" Dean ground out his best Brad Pitt imitation and began laughing.

"Dude! Seriously. Take a damn pill and act your age will you?"

"Kill joy," Dean's laughter died on his lips and he stepped up to the box. After taking a deep breath, he opened the box.

"Damn," he breathed. "I didn't think she could look any worse!"

Sam stepped to the table and also looked into the box. Judy Sue's head greeted him. She had no eyes. Someone or something had gouged them out.

A/N: Hope you got a few laughs out of this. Please let me know if you did!!!!! Please leave a little review under my pillow…..please….

A/N2: If you in any way identified with the villain here, please seek therapy!!! And a quick note about the name of our "villain"… Judy – as in Judy Bloom – an author that I found surprisingly frightening as a child and Sue – as in Mary Sue (ok – sorry that is a deep-seated prejudice that I have largely gotten over – in no small part due to some awesome writers of OC fics – Devonshire, Kwater, Gaelicspirit…).


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to any real alive or dead person is purely coincidental. Don't own the boys - pout -

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Dean and Sam stared at the head in the box. Slowly, their eyes rose and met. Both raised their eyebrows. Both slipped on latex gloves that they retrieved from their pockets.

"You should check," Dean suggested.

"Why don't you?" Sam shot back.

"Are you three?" Dean shot back.

"Are you?"

"Good one, genius. But I checked the last time."  
"Did not."

"Oh fine! What is it with you and sticking your hand in a dead head's mouth anyway. Fine way for a hunter to act…" Dean kept up a steady stream of grumbling as he reached into the box and checked in the head's mouth.

"Oh! This just keeps getting grosser!" Dean made a gagging noise and stepped away from the table, peeling off the gloves.

"What Dean?" Sam pressed.

"Well, there aren't any fangs."  
"That's good. She wasn't a vampire then. The beheading is just incidental, probably," Sam reasoned. "So what is your problem, Dude?" Sam took in his brothers still contorting face.

"No fangs. No teeth period. Like yuk!" Dean kept grimacing.

Jim stuck his head back in at that moment.

"Can I get anything else for you?"

"Is this all of the remains?" Sam asked.

"That's it. As far as I know the rest of the body was burned at the scene. They just found a pile of ash. And the box, of course." Jim seemed oddly undisturbed by this macabre event. The boys had seen it before in morgue attendants. They quickly became immune to the creepier side of their jobs.

"Well, thanks for all your help, Jim. I think we have everything we need for the time being," Sam smiled at the man as he and Dean left the room. Dean smiled at the receptionist as they made their way to the outer door.

"So. I think our next move is to check out this Judy Sue's house," Dean suggested as he eased himself behind the wheel of the Impala.

"Sounds like a plan," Sam acquiesced.

An hour later found the two hunters pulling up in front of a small, isolated house. Dean had insisted on stopping back at the motel to change into more comfortable clothing.

The house was modest, and Sam had discovered in doing a background check on Judy that it was rented. As Dean rifled through the trunk for weapons, Sam surveyed the area. The garden was a bit of a jungle.

"Guess she spent all of her time writing," Sam suggested as they made their way to the front door, Sam carrying a salt-loaded shotgun.

There were no neighbours within sight, so it was easy to pick the lock without being seen after breaking the police tape on the door.

Dean eased the .45 out of the back of his jeans as Sam slowly let the door swing in.

There was a tiny sitting room that seemed to be coated in dust. The hallway lead to the kitchen. Lining the hallway were piles of papers and books. There were dirty dishes piled in the sink and a coffee maker had gone dry and been turned off by someone. A chair had been knocked over and there were signs of a struggle that had ended in the kitchen. There was still some evidence of the ash pile Jim had mentioned and there was a plentiful amount of blood decorating the otherwise cheerful kitchen.

They followed the general mess through another hallway to a room that was obviously Judy Sue's office. Papers and books were piled everywhere. The walls were lined with full bookshelves. There was a computer which Sam immediately fired up. Sitting at the computer, waiting for it to fire up, Sam scanned the immediate area.

"I think it is official." Sam stated.

"What's that, oh psychic wonder?" Dean asked from where he was scanning the books on the shelves. He'd put the .45 back into the waistband of his jeans.

"This old bird was a complete loon."

"Why Sammy. Whatever gave you that impression? The fact that she seems to have kept every piece of paper ever to have come within the sphere of her insanity?" Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Yeah, there's that. But look at this – there must be twenty memory sticks here. Who the hell would need that much storage for data?" Sam shook his head, flopping his shaggy hair about. Sam grabbed one of the memory sticks and inserted it into a usb port on the computer.

"Might as well get an idea of what she was keeping," he muttered under his breath.

Dean continued scanning the shelves. There were the usual books on how to improve your writing, a smattering of smutty romance type novels, a lot of general self help books on everything from improving your love life to winning friends and influencing others, and a few novels by Judy Sue herself. By now Dean had made his way mostly around the room to the closet, so he opened it to find….. Surprise! More books and papers and a few boxes of mystery materials.

"Dean!" Sam's voice pulled Dean out of the closet before he could get a real look at its content.

"What?"

"Totally. Flaming. Loony." Sam had turned to face his brother. His face bore a look of total incredulity.

"WHAT?" Dean raised his eyebrows and held his hands out to his side, shrugging his shoulders.

"These memory sticks are full of emails and, what's even more disturbing, chats on MSN. This broad recorded and kept every correspondence and conversation she ever had by the looks of it. Who the hell does that Dean?"

"Crazy old broads who live alone, apparently," Dean shrugged again. Monsters he got. People were all kinds of crazy. He couldn't help but contrast the total clutter of useless crap with the fact that everything he owned in the world fit in the trunk of the Impala – well except of course the Impala herself….

"There's no way that I can go through all of this stuff. It would take an army a year."

"Just pick some random shit and see what you come up with," Dean turned back to the closet.

Sam was at a loss as to where to start. Just jumping in to a random MSN chat would be totally unproductive. He'd have no idea who the other chatters were for one thing. He sighed. Sometimes he wished he'd never learned to use a computer.

Sam was startled by a muffled shout from Dean.

"Yahtzee!!!!"

"What?"

"Hit the mother lode here Sammy!" Dean emerged from the closet carrying a box and waving a book.

"Looks like our friendly neighbourhood hack was training to become a not so friendly witch!"

"Yeah, well she was born a _bitch_!" Both boys spun around to face the owner of the unfamiliar voice. A woman stood in the doorway. She was in her late thirties and athletically built. Her hair was scooped back into a ponytail.

"Who the hell are you, and how the hell did you get in here?" Dean boomed in his best official voice. "This is a crime scene! You can't be in here!"

"Seems like I already am in here, and who the hell are you two anyway?"

"We're with the FBI," Dean bluffed. To his amazement, the newcomer actually out and out _snorted_ at him.

"Fine. If you want to play that game, I'm with the CIA. Which trumps the wimpy FBI, so maybe you ladies should piss off."

Sam looked at her, almost gaping. She had balls. He had to give her that.

"Fine," Dean ground out. "Maybe we aren't FBI, but that doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be in here."

"Look. Just tell us who you are and why you're here," Sam asked as pleasantly as possible, turning on the puppy-eyes and trying to play peace maker. Neither his brother nor this girl was going to back down and frankly they were starting to give him a headache.

"Seems to me there are two of you and only one of me, so why should I be at a disadvantage. Who are _you_ and what are _you_ doing here?" This girl was stubborn.

"Ha!" Dean barked in triumph. "I know who you are! You're Barbara White!" He practically crowed.

The girl all but crumbled. She looked stunned. "How did you know that?" She could barely keep the awe out of her voice.

Dean had the decency to look a little ashamed of himself.

"Well, your picture is on the dust jacket of all your books," he nodded sheepishly at the shelf of her books not five feet from where he was standing.

Barbara gaped for a minute and then the three of them burst out laughing.

"Ok. Fair's fair. Fess up. Who are you guys? And what are you doing here?"

"My name is Dean, and this is my little brother Sam," Dean supplied indicating Sam who stood up to shake Barbara's hand.

She watched with appreciation as Sam rose to his full height in front of her. "_Little_ brother, huh? And what _do_ you do, Sam?" Barbara pressed again, shaking Sam's hand firmly.

"We're … um... exterminators," Sam finished lamely with a weak smile.

"Oooookaaay. We'll just go with th……." Barbara suddenly stopped in mid sentence and gaped at the brothers. "Oh my God. You're not. You can't be. Can you?" A myriad of emotions passed over her face.

"Barbara? You ok? You aren't one of those freaky, flakey artistic types are you?" Dean really hated getting in with an artsy crowd. There was a lot he'd do for a hot chick but sitting around all evening getting all angsty over a painting, a song, or, God forbid a movie, so did not turn his crank.

"What? No! Of course not." Barbara answered Dean but still seemed disturbingly distracted.

"What is it you think we are, Barbara?" Sam asked gently. Forced as always to be the voice of reason. He, of course, had a definite soft spot for artsy types.

"You two are HUNTERS? Aren't you?"

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A/N: Please leave a review (insert puppy eyes here) – I am starving for a little feedback…. Should I keep going???? Reviews are like M&Ms!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to a real or imagined alive or dead person is completely unintentional.

A/N: So lots of banter in this chappie but not a lot of action. Lots of action in the next chapter though….Promise!

"Ah…Hunters?" Dean attempted his most innocent expression and just looked slightly pained.

"Yeah. Hunters. As in, hunt the supernatural?" Barbara was grinning from ear to ear.

Dean and Sam exchanged pained and slightly panicked looks.

"Wow. I thought it was just another urban legend. Stupid, I guess, considering up until I found out what Judy was up to I thought that witches were pretty much urban legends too."

"And what exactly _was_ Judy Sue up to?" Sam prodded gently.

"It's a pretty long story…" Barbara hedged.

"Must be your lucky night sweetheart 'cuz we've got nowhere else to be," Dean grinned at her. "We might as well get comfortable. I'll grab a couple chairs." Dean made a quick trip to the kitchen and returned with two chairs. He set one down for Barbara and one for himself, which he straddled, resting his arms on the back.

"Ok. Spill. What exactly do you know about Judy Sue and what she was up to?" Dean prompted Barbara.

"Well, I guess I'd better start right at the beginning." Barbara frowned as she reached back in her memory for all of the details that might be important. Sam leaned forward attentively.

"As I'm sure you know, a number of writers in this area have died recently. Suicides. But they weren't suicides. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. Myself and Judy and these other writers all knew each other. We are a fairly tight-knit group of writers. We chat on the internet, proof and edit for each other, and generally offer support to each other. There's a group on the internet where we all "met". Judy came on about two years ago. At first she just read and chatted – no writing."

Barbara sighed and rolled her eyes.

"God, it was so nice before she came on."

"Do you know anything about her history prior to joining the group on the internet?" Sam asked gently.

"Do I know anything about her history?" Barbara's voice and her eyebrows rose alarmingly. "Are you kidding?"

"Um, no?" Sam sat back in his chair to get a little distance from the increasingly agitated writer.

"God! I know more about her than about my own sisters!" Barbara spat the comment out and looked thoroughly disgusted.

"Hey Geekboy," Dean broke in. "How come you didn't know anything about this internet connection?"

"Gee, Dean, might have something to do with the fact that you have the attention span of a gnat and insisted we drop the research and get hunting!" It was Sam's turn to raise his voice and his eyebrows.

"Oh." Dean had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Well, I'm betting that Barbie here can tell us more than we would have gotten anywhere else, anyway."

"Not Barbie."

"What?"

"_NOT_ Barbie!" Barbara was starting to get a bit pissed at Dean.

"Come again?"

"Are you thick? Don't call me Barbie – I'm not a doll!"

"Ok Do… - oops! Barbara. Please go on." Dean couldn't help the tiny smirk even as he urged the girl to continue her story. She was plucky. He liked plucky. A quick glance at Sam confirmed that he liked plucky too.

"Ok. So. She was apparently the youngest of ten siblings…"  
"Whoa! Ten?" Dean couldn't stop himself.

"This will go a lot faster if you don't keep interrupting…"

"Oh, good luck with that," Sam interrupted.

Barbara glared at both of them. Both dutifully snapped their mouths shut and gave her their full attention.

"So, apparently, she always felt neglected and left out as a child. Then there wasn't money for a proper education past high school. Ended up in a dead end job and a dead end marriage. She talked about kids and grandkids or maybe they were nieces and nephews – to be honest I didn't pay that much attention. And then there were the cats. She had like 50 cats, and one of them was always sick or missing or whatnot."

"Cats? We haven't seen even one…" Sam and Dean both scanned the room looking for the apparently invisible cats.

"Well obviously animal control took them away when the body was discovered." Barbara rolled her eyes. _Could these guys concentrate on anything for more than five minutes? How the Hell did they fight a war against the supernatural? _

"Anyway, everything was always woe is me, my life is so hard, everyone else is so much luckier, my life is so hard – oh wait, I already said that one, didn't I?"

"Anyway, you know how some people just say shit to get sympathy? Well, she was a master of it and got a bunch of people wrapped around her finger. I don't think there was anything supernatural about it, just one of those needy type people."

Sam and Dean nodded in encouragement, but Dean's attention was obviously flagging.

"So at what point did things change?" Sam encouraged.

"Well, she started to write because really that is what the site is for. We all pitched in to help out at first. I have to say she did not take any criticism well. In fact, if you made the mistake of criticizing her, you paid the price. She had no clue about the more subtle aspects of writing like metaphor or analogy."

"I bet she had no clue at all about irony then," Sam positively glowed at the opportunity to have an intellectual discussion about the finer points of literature.

Dean meanwhile was quietly chanting under his breath, "Geekgoygeekboygeekboygeekboy…" Barbara glared at him again. He gave her yet another of his most innocent looks. Sam scowled.

"To sum up then, her writing was mediocre at best and truly awful at worst, but people felt sorry for her and told her it was great. That's when she decided to publish her novel herself."

"It wasn't until it was in print that people started to realize that bits of the novel looked surprisingly like things they had posted on the site."

"Oh my God!" Sam was clearly scandalized. "You mean she plagiarized?"

"Yep."

"You can't plagiarize stuff that's only posted on the internet," Dean scoffed.

"You sure as hell can!" Barbara exclaimed, and Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean leaned back in his chair as the other two looked like they were about to fly at him.

"Anyway, she apologized and said that it must have happened unintentionally, just that she is so in awe of everyone else's talent, yada yada yada. But at least by this point, a few people were starting to see through her. And it's at this point that things get weird."

"Judy basically fell off the grid at this point. Nobody really knew where she was for about a month. Then all of a sudden she's back, and she has these amazing stories. Some of the people who had been vocal against her suddenly couldn't say enough nice things about her. And the more she posted, the less others posted. A bunch of writers just stopped posting – they said they'd lost their muse."

"Then I had a couple of really weird conversations with a few authors. They said that they'd thought of an idea for a story only to see Judy post it the next day. They hadn't mentioned it to anyone, hadn't even written it down."

"I didn't think much of all of this until authors started dying. There were three suicides in one week! The next thing I hear Judy has three publishing companies fighting over her next novel…" Barbara paused to catch her breath.

"Yeah, but all artists are tortured, right? I mean suicide is really just a hazard of the job." Dean stated.

Barbara and Sam just stared at him. He was beginning to feel ganged up on.

"What?" Dean's eyebrows went up as his arms went out to the side and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Dude, you are just all kinds of insensitive, aren't you?" Sam breathed in disgust at his brother. "These were Barbara's friends."

"Oh. Well. Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it…. Yeah, forgot, sensitive artist types… So, yeah, um – please go on."

"So once people started dying, I knew that I had to do something. I've done quite a bit of research into the paranormal and supernatural for my own work. I've written both fiction and non-fiction on the subject, so my first thought was some kind of spell work – maybe witch kind of activity."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look of admiration for this girl. Given the information that she had, she was drawing the same conclusions they would have.

"My research showed that when Judy went away, she went up to Massachusetts. Salem to be exact. She apparently met with a number of people in the area who have been tied to the area's long history of witchcraft. I also figured based on what I knew that she was casting some kind of high powered glamour to get people like the publishing agents to _really_ like her. I also figured she was using some kind of spell work to drain the creative force from other writers on the site."

"I knew that I had to stop her or my friends were going to continue to die. I knew that I had to confront her and stop her."

A/N2: So really if you are identifying with the fugly, lonely cat lady, seek help!!!! There are support groups out there for you – really!

Please be kind and leave a little comment – even if it's just hello – feeling a little lonely here – and I already have three cats…..


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to real alive or dead person is purely coincidental. Don't own anything Supernatural.

A/N: Sorry for the wait for this. Should be one more chapter up within the week to finish…

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"So it was you who…well…you know…" Dean gestured with his hand as he bobbed his eyebrows up and down at Barbara.

"Who killed Judy? NO! I was going to stop her. Convince her to stop using the talent of other writers. To force her to stop killing them. I mean the deaths may have technically been suicides, but there's no doubt that Judy drove them to it."

"No. I didn't kill her," Barbara reiterated, "but that doesn't mean I didn't consider it. No. I did a bit of research into how to stop the spell with one of my own. I thought that would be the best and only way to control her."

"So essentially you went in unarmed?" Sam raised his eyebrows. He had to admire this girl's stones. He shook his head. He was turning into his brother.

"I was armed with the spell work." Barbara looked a little offended. "I'm not sure why I wasn't affected the way the other authors were. I did take the time to cast a protection charm over myself before I came here to confront Judy."

"Why didn't you get anyone else to come with you?" Sam asked.

"It's not that I didn't try, but you've got to realize that by this point Judy had almost everyone either under her glamour spell or so distraught over the loss of their writing abilities that they were all too far gone to offer any support or help. I did have some help from a few friends in researching the spells we thought she was likely using and how to break them." Barbara looked pained. It was obvious that the breakdown of her writing community had affected her deeply.

Dean, however, was becoming a bit bored with the length of her story and had risen from his chair and was once again roaming about the room, picking up this and that to examine.

"Am I keeping you from something?" Barbara scowled at the prowling hunter.

"Huh? No… we're here to take care of this thing…" his voice trailed off and he looked puzzled at her sudden change in attitude.

"Ok then, long as I'm not boring you or anything," Barbara rolled her eyes and re-focused her attention on Sam who was a more than willing audience. Sam was perfectly happy to have all of her attention.

"So, you came here to the house, and what did you find?" Sam quietly encouraged.

"Judy was here. Alone. Said she was busy writing. I insisted on coming in, and she eventually relented and let me in. Didn't so much as offer me a cup of tea."

"Guess no coffee, then eh?"

"No Dean. No coffee." Barbara rolled her eyes.

"As Judy didn't seem to want to engage in any preliminaries, I just took the bull by the horns as it were," Barbara continued. "I told her outright that I knew what she was up to. Naturally, she denied it vehemently. She was loudly proclaiming her innocence and stomping about the house until she lead me in here." Barbara paused and looked around the room with a little shudder.

"What happened when she got you in here?" Sam prompted.

"I'm still getting over being creeped out that you were alone in the house with that fugly old broad," Dean had to get his two cents in.

"You do understand what a glamour is, don't you Dean?" Barbara spoke as though to a somewhat intellectually stunted child…

"Yeah. Well. Maybe. Um. Sort of?" Dean mumbled.

"The glamour she cast was not only to enthral those around her to her charms but to create the illusion of youth and beauty. While she had the glamour at full power, Judy wasn't old or ugly. She was still a bitch though…"

"Kind of like Kathy Bates in _Misery_," Dean mused.

"Huh?" Sam was clearly confused by his brother's apparent non sequitor.

"You know. The movie based on the Stephen King novel," Dean was getting impatient in his own right. Sometimes he wondered about Sam's observational skills. Honestly, did he pay any attention to the world around him?

"Dean. Kathy Bates played a psychotic fan who kept an injured author…"  
"James Caan," Dean supplied helpfully.

"Whatever… kept an injured author prisoner until he wrote the novel she wanted to read…" Sam trailed off suddenly as he began to see a spooky kind of logic to the parallel his brother was seeing. Sometimes being related to Dean was a bit scary…

"See," Dean saw that Sam was seeing.

"Anyway, beside the point, Dude." Sam turned his attention back to Barbara who was staring at the brothers throughout their exchange.

"Sorry, Barbara. Please go on." Sam gave her his best apologetic smile, complete with apologetic puppy eyes.

"Once she got me in here, she tried to cast a kind of super-glamour over me. When it didn't work because of my self-protection charm, she really lost it. Started shrieking and pulling her hair out and everything. It was quite a sight, I've gotta tell ya." Barbara paused as the scene replayed itself in her mind.

"That was the turning point. It seemed that as she lost control, she _really_ lost control and all the glamours she had woven came unravelled. I've talked to a few authors since who had been under her spell and it seems like they just suddenly got disenchanted with her – if you know what I mean…"  
Dean and Sam both groaned at the terrible pun.

"Everything happened so quickly then, though it's hard to say whether it was her initial loss of control that caused the glamour to dissipate or what happened right after." Barbara frowned at the memory.

"I thought it was just the effect of her behaviour causing my blood to run cold, but I was suddenly shivering and could see my breath. Judy noticed it too and stopped shrieking. As we stood there, wisps of what looked like smoke started spiralling up out of piles of paper. It was the spirits of the dead writers coming up out of their own works. And they were coming for Judy."

Dean quickly flung the pages he had been flipping through away from himself, startling both Barbara and Sam in the process. Dean smiled sheepishly.

"Judy figured out what was happening and took off towards the kitchen. I think she kept some of her spell ingredients there. Anyway, she was beginning to chant some sort of spell as soon as she left the room."

Barbara paused and Sam reached out to lay a reassuring hand on her arm. Dean rolled his eyes. Geekboy was in geekboy heaven – he had a fellow geek to geek with. Actually, it was nice to see his brother interested in a female of the species. Sometimes he wondered if one of them were adopted. Or had been exposed to too much radiation at some point…Dean wrestled his attention back to Barbara….

"I was suddenly surrounded by my friends who had committed suicide – well their ghosts, anyway. They swarmed over Judy before she could really get the incantation going. Some of them lifted her in the air, so she was spread eagled and parallel to the floor. All of them pulled out pens and began stabbing her with them."

"Pens? But you all write on the internet and your computers! Nobody uses a pen anymore, do they?" Dean blurted out.

"It's symbolic, you dolt." Sam tried to stem the tide of Dean's mouth.

"Sort of the old, the pen is mightier than the sword kinda thing," Dean interjected.

"Dean! These were her _friends_ remember…" Sam tried in vain to shut up his brother but he should have known better.

Barbara just stared at Dean. Dean finally noticed and his mouth snapped shut at the look on her face. Sam was, yet again, impressed with their new acquaintance. Once she was sure Dean had control over himself, she continued.

"It was horrible. After they had all stabbed her, they started just pulling her apart. Basically deconstructing her right in front of my eyes. The most gruesome part, though, was when one of the authors came forward and stomped out her eyes."

"Wait!" Dean needed that cleared up a bit. "You can't just _stomp _somebody's eyes out."

"You can if you are wearing four inch, stiletto heels."

"Oh." Dean suddenly had a very far away look on his face.

"And then they all just disappeared as soon as they were done. I knew that I needed to salt and burn her corpse to prevent her coming back, so I gathered up the body parts and torched them. I hoped that her death would put the rest of the authors at peace."

"How'd the head end up at the morgue?" Dean interrupted.

"Well, I couldn't find it at first. You do get the concept of ripped limb from limb, right?"

Barbara arched an eyebrow at Dean and he arched one right back.

"I was in the middle of torching her and looking for her head, which I had – duh – noticed was missing, when I heard a car drive up. I figured it would be a good idea for me not to be found there…"

Sam nodded in agreement. Not surprised that she would know when to beat a hasty retreat.

"So, I took off. I only came back tonight to gather up the work she had stolen off the other authors – mine included."

Dean opened his mouth to comment, when suddenly they all felt the temperature plummet.

Soooo…. Let me know what you think? Please, please leave a review – don't leave me alone here with just the cats!!!!


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